


Jackie Boy Man: Isolation

by Jakaboi



Series: Protection Verse [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye egos - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Be More Chill inspired, Don't copy to another site, Egos AU, Gen, Protection Verse, Spiderman inspired, sanders sides au, superhero origins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakaboi/pseuds/Jakaboi
Summary: College is where you prepare for the rest of your life, and Jack is starting to think maybe he should hang up the mask. Enemy-turned-friend, the Medic disagrees, and Remy is convinced there’s something seriously wrong, but then he disappears. Are they right or is the would-be-hero just dreaming?





	1. Let's Catch Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this first chapter.
> 
> The Medic is inspired by the TF2 character as portrayed in the Random Encounters musicals, Medic!, You and Me, and Medics Don't Heal Scouts (as played by AJ Pinkerton)

_Pick up zhe phone Jack, or so help me I vill-_

**[MESSAGE DELETED]**

_Talk to me Jack……If you aren’t going to answer zhen at least come by zhe vorksho-_

**[MESSAGE DELETED]**

**[ALL MESSAGES DELETED]**

Jack pockets his cell phone as he comes to the door of his shared apartment. He’s not willing to get drawn into another argument about this. He said his piece and until Medic calms down, the German can just rage in his workshop.

The door to the apartment is ajar, which is worrying. He didn’t forget to lock it again did he?

“Hello?” he calls as he pushes the door open.

“Through here!” calls back a voice that definitely isn’t his roommate’s. Still Jack knows whose voice that is. Chuckling, he closes the door and heads to Jay’s room. He could do with a laugh.

Sure enough, stood by the bed on which Jay has collapsed face down is Remy. Not actually a student but somehow a huge part of the culture and community. He’s the self-appointed Mother Hen and takes it upon himself to make sure that everybody has a good time and nobody overdoes it. And those who take things a bit far always get a hand home. Librarian by day, Party Angel by night. Everybody knows him and he seems to know everybody.

Wearing his usual leather jacket and sunglasses, despite it being the middle of the night, Remy is bent over the bedside table, clicking at the clock before standing up.

“Do you think a 5am alarm will teach him to take it easier next time?”

Jack chuckles. “You’re terrible.”

When Remy turns, he’s smirking. He may be a sweetheart, he’s one hell of a bitch. “I try.”

As they leave the room, they hit the lights and Jay is left to sleep it off, at least until his rude awakening come the morning. They head to the kitchen. Since Remy managed to presumably half-carry a semi-conscious roommate half way across town, the least Jack owes him is a drink.

It’s a bit late for anything hard but Remy doesn’t seem too bothered, happily cracking open his soda and taking a sip as he leans against the sideboard. He gives Jack a once-over.

“So a little birdie tells me you had a falling out over the summer break.” Which most likely means that Remy saw one of Jack’s various rants about it on Twitter.

“Dad wasn’t all that impressed with my grades last year.” Jack shrugs.

Given that most nights had been spent patrolling the campus, discouraging the creeps, and protecting the intoxicated, studying hadn’t exactly been high on his list of priorities, but that’s not exactly something he can tell his dad. Instead he’s leaning heavily into ‘having had trouble adjusting to independence’.

“He only agreed to pay this semester’s tuition if I agreed to see a counsellor.”

“Doing any good?”

Jack takes a sip of his own drink, giving it a good think, his mind going a bit hazy as he considers his sessions. Eventually, he nods. “I think so.”

Despite the lies that brought him through the door, the sessions always seemed to make things clearer. The path he was on compared to the one he should be taking, how things looked vs how they really were.

With almost too-precise timing, Jack is shocked from his reverie by his pocket vibrating, the ringtone piercing the air. With another aggravated sigh, he pulls out his phone and denies the call. Get the message, Medic. Jack doesn’t want to talk.

Looking up, he meets a surprisingly suspicious look from Remy, peering over his sunglasses, one eyebrow raised.

“Not my dad.” Jack assures him.

“Uh- _huh_.”

It’s obvious that Remy doesn’t believe him and Jack turns away. Jack would never deny a call from his dad, except his dad isn’t calling so much these days. He called once to ask about the first counselling session, money and his initial grades but since then…

He doesn’t want to think about it but his dad  _really_  got mad and Jack being the headstrong idiot he is had argued and…

Disappointment. That’s the word that keeps springing up from the base of his skull since he got to school. And that’s the last thing he wants but…

Jack jumps at the firm hand on his shoulder, blinking and turning to see Remy stood right next to him, looking concerned. He doesn’t say anything and there’s a strangely comforting moment between them. Until Remy reaches up and cradles Jack’s cheek, lips curling into a smirk.

“As much as I love spending time with my second favorite coffee bean, it’s getting late, and if I stay much longer then the tension may become  _too much_.”

Jack laughs, batting the hand away, his head reeling a little at the sudden movement. “I knew you couldn’t be serious.”

Remy grins, reaching to adjust his sunglasses. “I can be plen-…..”

The words die on his lips and his smile falters. There’s a twist in Jack’s gut just a split second before Remy drops. Panicked, Jack surges forward, grabbing for Remy and catching him, though his sunglasses dislodge and clatter to the floor.

“Remy?” Jack kicks the sunglasses out the way to lay him down, firmly tapping at Remy’s cheek. “Remy can you hear me?” No response.

Not as calmly as he would like, Jack checks Remy over. There’s no medical alert bracelet, necklace, or card in his wallet. Nothing’s blocking his airways, but he’s not waking up. Once Jack has him in the recovery position he’s about to call an ambulance but he stops, fingers hovering over the buttons.

There’s something about this that isn’t sitting right with him. There are probably a thousand logical reasons as to why this could have happened. After all Jack isn’t a doctor, he’s not even mildly medically minded but there’s that feeling in his gut, like anxiety but firmer, that says there’s something about this that he can’t see, but he shouldn’t ignore.

Jack sighs, cursing under his breath as he scrolls through his contacts, pressing call on the only person he can trust to take him seriously about this. The line rings twice before it’s answered.

“Vhy have you been ignoring my-!”

“I need a Medic.” Jack cuts across him, and the line goes silent.  It’s an emergency phrase. Only used when Jack specifically needs the Medic’s help, usually a potential life or death situation. When the phrase is used, whatever else is going on, grudges, disagreements, everything’s put on hold.

“You?”

“Bystander.”

“Injury?”

“Fainting.”

“Fainting?!”

“Call it Instinct.”

Jack’s had this gut feeling before. It’s never specific, and is very rarely of any real use, but it’s  _never_ been wrong. More than once, Medic has joked that it’s probably Jack’s spider-sense but so they don’t spend all their time laughing, they just call it his Instinct.

The line is silent, Jack nervously tapping the fingers of his free hand against his leg as he waits, willing Medic to answer already. There’s a frustrated sigh before he finally speaks.

”Bring zhem in.”


	2. Something Lurks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there something different, or is it just me?

The workshop is filled with a whole host of old medical equipment. A good portion has been dismantled, and a few machines have been drastically altered but the most of them seem to still be functional, at least to some degree. To one side of the room, there sits on old couch. Comfortable but well worn, definitely showing it’s age while to another there’s what could loosely be called a desk. It’s littered with papers covered in an undecipherable scrawl that the Medic insists is his handwriting. Completely nonsense to anyone else, but so long as he understands it, that’s all that matters.

“Well?” Jack asks nervously, perched on the edge of the desk watching his friend pour over some of his notes.

The Medic shrugs. “Zhere’s nothing wrong.”

“And you’re _sure_ you haven’t missed something?”

“Short of breaking into zhe hospital and borrowing zheir MRI, zhere’s-”

“No, don’t,” Jack cuts across him, “Don’t do that again.”

In the middle of the mess, under a sickly fluorescent light is an old hospital bed which the Medic has had as long as Jack can remember. It had to have come from somewhere, but to be honest, at this point Jack’s too afraid to ask.

Remy’s still unconscious, laid out on it, completely unaware of the chaos and concern around him. Nothing the pair of them have tried has managed to illicit any kind of reaction from the slumbering patient, not even basic reflexes. No twitches, no sounds, nothing. It’s almost like Remy’s dead but the Medic insists there’s still brain activity so he’s definitely not.

As Jack glances over to the bed, he admits to himself it’s weird. He’s never seen Remy without his iconic jacket, but they had to take it off to get some readings and now he’s just laid there in his shirt, not even shivering in the poorly heated workshop.

As he hears the shuffling of papers ease up beside him, Jack can feel the glare the Medic is aiming at him. Silently he pleads to whoever may be listening for this not to happen.

It doesn’t work.

The papers are dropped quite firmly onto the table.

“Vhy do you vant to retire?”

Jack gives an aggravated sigh. “Now?” he says, “You want to talk about this _now_?”

The whole point of ignoring those calls was to avoid this conversation. The Medic is not known for his patience and rational thinking and Jack knew that the disgraced doctor wouldn’t reasonably consider his arguments. It was just easier to avoid the disagreement altogether. And now he stands here, trapped in this conversation because his Instinct says there’s something seriously wrong with Remy. I guess, no good deed goes unpunished.

“It’s been two veeks, Jack!” Barely contained anger seethes beneath the surface as the Medic grits the words through his teeth, “You are good at vhat you do. You _care_ about zhe people you protect.”

Jack shakes his head firmly, stepping away from the desk, “Caring isn’t enough.” He wraps his arms around himself. “I’m not in high school any more. People could wind up _dead_!”

“Zhat vas alvays a risk. And frankly,” standing up, the Medic angrily crosses his arms, “I don’t zhink you could hack it as a civilian.”

Honestly, thinking about it, Jack doesn’t think he could either. See someone in need of help and just walk on by, pretend that he can’t help them? It’ll tear him apart but things are starting to get serious, and he honestly doesn’t know that he can handle this any more. ….Can he?

“I don’t remember asking your opinion.” he turns to face the Medic, glaring at him, “In fact I distinctly remember purposefully avoiding it.”

“Jack I-”

A loud groan comes from the bed, and they rush over. Remy’s shifted, though he’s still not awake, turning onto his side, curling up slightly and shuddering. The first movement he’s made all night.

“I told you he vas alive.” the Medic mutters, moving over to grab a blanket, before throwing it over the patient.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s stupid o clock in the morning, he was tired before any of this started, and his head feels like it’s splitting down the middle. Honestly, all he wants right now is to crawl into bed and pretend he doesn’t exist.

“I need to get back before Jay wakes up. Can I trust you to keep an eye on him?”

“I’m insulted you have to ask.”

“Two words.” Jack raises two fingers as he smirks. “Zombie mushrooms.”

“First, I apologised for zhat. Second, you svore never to bring it up again.”

There’s a beat and they both burst out laughing. For a moment the tense air between them is completely gone, and it’s just like back in high school. Two weirdo friends working together to do some good in a wayward world. Soon enough though, that sickening feeling of unease twists it way back into his chest and Jack grabs his jacket from the desk.

“I’ll be by later. Keep me updated, okay?”

“Sure.”

And Jack heads home.

The punishment alarm Remy set blares through the entire apartment come 5am and Jack makes a personal note to ‘thank’ the ass when he finally wakes up. Still, he has a full day of class and a counselling session to get through, so the early wake up isn’t necessarily the worst thing. When Jay stumbles out his room, groaning and landing face first on the communal couch though, Jack laughs. Maybe it’s worth it.

There’s no message all morning from the Medic, despite Jack checking every five minutes, his Instinct doubling down the further through the day it gets. It’s around 2pm as he waits in the corridor for his counsellor when the message finally comes through

**[Medic] – Patient is awake and demanding coffee.**

A big ball of stress that Jack hadn’t even noticed sitting in his chest unwravels and he lets out a huge sigh of relief just as Dylan arrives.

“Good news?”

In the realm of counsellors, Jack really lucked out with Dylan. He’s exactly the kind of person you’d expect to go into counselling or therapy or something. Patient, giving, generous; when Jack couldn’t make any of Dylan’s usual scheduled sessions, Dylan offered to do a single session, just for Jack on what would normally be his day off. Sure there are certain things that Jack is never going to be able to tell him, but the reassurance he feels, knowing that he has someone on his side, someone looking out for him is indescribable.

“Friend was ill. He’s doing better now.”

“Well that’s great.”

As Dylan moves to unlock the office door, Jack scrolls through his apps, figuring it’s probably better to order a coffee to be delivered than to trust the Medic to have anything even remotely drinkable lying around.

When they enter, Jack moves to sit in his usual chair while Dylan heads behind the desk. Jack does a double take, not really having looked at his counsellor before now, a bit consumed by his phone.

“Your eye.”

Dylan freezes, “What?”

“Your left eye.” Jack points. He could have sworn they’d both always been the same color but looking at them now, one is the soft brown Jack is used to, while the other is much brighter, flecked, almost looking golden. “It looks-”

“Trick of the light.” Dylan cuts across, immediately turning away, moving to the sound system to turn on the music they usually have playing during sessions. Having a soundtrack to their session is still kind of weird to Jack, but the music isn’t that awful, and it means that when he stops talking there isn’t this awkward silence that makes him regret everything.

Dylan takes his own seat, folding both his hands in his lap as he faces Jack. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

“Sure,” Jack settles back in his chair, bag settled at his feet. “I’m not sure where we got to though.”

“Don’t worry,” Dylan shifts, allowing his brown hair to fall down and cover up his golden eye. “It’ll come to you.”

After the session, Jack is finally done for the day and rather than heading home to tend to the lack-of-sleep headache blossoming behind his eyes, he has to head to the workshop. Better to talk to Remy, figure out what’s going on with this.

Except Jack walks in to the workshop to see nobody there but the disgraced doctor himself sat at his desk. Jack looks back and forth across the room more than once but there’s no one. Just them.

“Where is he?”

The Medic turns, glancing at Jack before turning back to his papers. “Vhat?”

Frustrated at the brush of, Jack claps his hands immediately in front of him. “The patient, Medic! You could have told me he left!”

Then again, he can hardly blame Remy for not wanting to stick around. Passing out in Jack’s apartment and waking up in the weird workshop was probably pretty damn confusing. He can hardly blame the guy for not sticking around.

“Was he alright before he left at least?” Jack asks.

The Medic turns again, glancing to the empty bed before looking over to Jack, shaking his head, eyes narrowing in confusion. “I don’t zhink so.”

“Shit...” Reaching up, Jack runs a hand through his hair. He should probably ask more questions, figure out a plan of action but honestly Jack doesn’t have Remy’s number, doesn’t know where the guy lives. All he has is the knowledge that the guy will probably be at work tomorrow. “I guess I can check in with him tomorrow.”

Remy’s sunglasses are still at his apartment, he can just rock up to the service desk like ‘oh hey you dropped these’ and try and play down the weirdness of everything that’s happened to him.

“Wait Jack I-” The Medic stops, glancing over to the bed again. Jack looks up, waiting for him to speak but faced with a goldfish-like expression. Jack sighs in frustration.

“Look,” he waves dismissively, before turning towards the door, “I’m exhausted and I’ve got homework. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

He’s barely slept, had a full day and originally he had intended to do a patrol tonight, but he still isn’t sure he should, and he really doesn’t want to get into that conversation with Medic again right now.

As he hits the door, the Medic calls after him.

“Take it easy, Jack.”

“Sure.” he calls over his shoulder, and Jack leaves.

The Medic stares after him, before turning back to the room.

“How could he not see you?”

In the middle of the room, less than two feet from where Jack had stood not moments before, stands Remy, coffee clutched in his hand. Honestly he looks half dead on his feet, eyes still kind of half-closed, clearly not entirely with it, but coherent enough to look confused.

“I don’t know.” Even in his fatigued state, there’s a defiant resilience in Remy’s eyes. Tomorrow, he intends to find out.


	3. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some families shouldn't have secrets.

Remy heads towards the door of the canteen, glancing back to where Jack is still sat at his table. The kid had come in early, apparently hoping to catch Remy at work, and leaving the shades at the library help desk when it didn’t pan out. And, resourceful kid that he is, Jack managed to even get Remy’s number from another student, his number being an emergency contact for several people, given his knowledge of the campus, the local area, and being easier to talk to than some of the professionals around, you know.

Since then, despite Remy being sat right in front of him, literally on the other side of the table, Jack hasn’t seen or heard him, or his text tone as the two of them have exchanged messages.

Remy’s struggling to come up with an excuse as to why he can’t meet to talk about what happened when he glances Logan, his half-brother, near the door on the other side of the room, wearing a look that clearly shows he has no intent of crossing this crowded canteen. So for now, Jack will just have to handle himself.

“How blessed I am that you would deign to walk among us mere mortals.” Remy snarks, leading Logan to a secluded alcove just outside the door to the canteen.

Logan follows, triple-checking that they are sufficiently out of earshot of anyone who might attempt to listen in before he speaks.

“Actually it’s the Deities who become immortal. We Guardians are just significantly harder to kill.”

“While the rest of us just grow old and die alone.” Remy stuffs his hands in his pockets, glaring.

“Statistically speaking, that is a risk but-”

“Why are you here, Logan?”

He’s not an idiot, this isn’t a casual visit or Patton would be here as well. Except maybe not given the large crowd. It might overwhelm him, especially given this school isn’t exactly a well of positivity and the canteen is full of broke and hungry college students desperately trying to drag their sorry asses through yet another day of Hell. Remy sighs. He misses Patton.

“Virgil is concerned.” Logan inclines his head as he adjusts his glasses, seemingly oblivious. “He was insistent that I check in with you.”

That catches Remy’s attention.

“He had a vision?”

“He refuses to share any details with us but he is adamant that you are in danger.”

Worrying has always kind of been Virge’s thing and while many people have dismissed him, Remy has always taken him seriously. And with good reason. They learned pretty quickly that when Virgil has ‘concerns’, you best be paying attention or else people are going to wind up having a bad time. His ‘concerns’ may seem extreme, but the kid has never been wrong.

“So why isn’t Virge here?” It seems unusual that he’d send someone in his place and not tell Remy himself.

“Roman has been taking his Guardianship a tad seriously and refuses to leave Virgil alone for any period of time and as long as you insist that we keep him in the dark-”

“Wait, what?!” Remy’s thoughts stumble a moment. “Guardianship?”

Logan’s eyes go wide and his usually stoic face cracks, showing a look of semi-concern.

“Ah. I was not supposed to tell you that.”

“Roman’s a Guardian?!”

“Technically Virgil’s Guardian.”

“Virg-?! Virgil’s a Deity?!” Logan doesn’t answer but when he won’t meet Remy’s eyes, that’s all the answer he needs. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”

“The others believe, and frankly I agree, that you took Patton’s appointment entirely too personally.” Logan gestures towards Remy, adjusting his glasses and still avoiding direct eye contact. “We were concerned you would overreact.”

“Even though it’s been over a year since I saw you or Patton, and I get the distinct feeling that you don’t really want to be here right now.”

He used to see them all the time but since they became important he never hears from them, never sees them. Every message he sends to them is left unanswered and Remy honestly feels like they no longer want him around.

“Actually it’s been 19 months-”

“Not the time, Logan!” Several people turn at Remy’s outburst, but he doesn’t care, even as he sees Logan glance around at them.

“I understand your concern, Remy, but we all have responsibilities. They can’t-”

“I don’t care, okay.” Remy steps back, putting as much distance as he can between him and Logan, fighting to keep his voice level as he speaks. “Tell Virgil I’m  _fine_. Give my love to Patton, and fucking look after Roman.” He turns and begins to walk away. “I’ll see you all at the five year family reunion.”

“Remy!” Logan calls after him, but Remy just flips him off over his shoulder.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t. So what if his brothers are lying to him; hiding things from him. So they’re going to drift even further away, becoming more and more distant until eventually Remy wakes up and just accepts that his ‘family’ are better off without him. After all, they clearly don’t need him. They have each other to look out for. Sure walking away right now feels like the biggest regret of his life, and the fact that this is possibly the last time he might ever see Logan honestly makes him want to vomit, but hey; he doesn’t care.

His phone vibrates as he sits back down at Jack’s table.

 **[Jack] –**  Are you on campus? Just heard someone yell your name

 **[Remy] –**  dont worry bout it

 **[Jack] –**  Are you okay?

Honestly, he’s kind of wishing the ground would open up and swallow him right now. But since that’s not going to happen, and there’s a genuine issue sitting right in front of him, Remy makes a decision.

 **[Remy] –**  I’m sat opposite you

Jack pulls a funny face at his phone.

 **[Jack] –**  v funny

 **[Remy] –**  you have a half-eaten plate of cottage pie in front of you

 **[Remy] –**  and please do something about that raggedy mop you call hair

Reaching up, Jack runs his fingers through it, mussing it up even worse and it’s taking so much self-restraint not to just bat Jack’s hands out the way and deal with it himself.

“I thought I looked okay.” Jack mutters to himself.

 **[Remy] –** you look a mess hun and your fingers dont count

At the last text Jack glances up and Remy wills the kid to see him, please!  _Please_   _Jack_! But as his eyes run past Remy a few times, they remain blank, clearly seeing nothing there.

“Remy?” Jack mutters again, barely audible. After a moment, his phone vibrates in his hand.

 **[Remy] –**  Something is wrong and I am trying to figure out what it is but I need your help

Jack glances towards the door, but Remy refuses to look in case Logan didn’t get the memo and go.

“Who yelled your name?” Jack’s voice is still quiet and he jumps as his phone vibrates again

 **[Remy] –**  dont worry about it

 **[Remy] –**  where did you go yesterday?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. A bit more backstory on the Sides in Protection Verse. Let me know what you think.


	4. Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and stab you in the chest

“Open sesame.”

Remy gently pushes the door open. Locked doors are really not as much of a deterrent as people seem to think they are. Especially not for those on a mission who own a lock-picking kit, which Remy slides back into his inner pocket.

Jack went back to class, little reason for both of them to work this when the coffee bean can’t even see him. Better that Remy goes investigating alone. He’s working from a photo of Jack’s schedule going to every location the kid visited the day before and investigating. Just looking to see if there’s any kind of indication as to what’s going on. The few classes he’s already been to turned up nothing but hints at an inappropriate relationship between a lecturer and another student, evidence of which has already been sent to the lecturer’s boss. Other than that, everything to this point has been relatively normal and frankly, Remy isn’t even sure what he’s looking for. Though he’s certain that when he sees it, he’ll know.

The room is pretty standard fare for a counsellors office, a few books on a shelf that seem to be about the kind of thing you’d expect a counsellor to understand, some diplomas and awards on the wall. There’s a computer on a desk, a few cacti, some motivational poster on the wall. Even so, something about this room just feels….off.

Remy passes the seat the students probably sit in for their sessions, going round the back of the desk, sitting in the main chair, and leans to turn the computer on.

Okay so going snooping in someone’s PC is probably something he could get in a hella lot of trouble for but Remy honestly doesn’t care. He’s not stupid or careless enough to be caught, and the feeling of something being off is only getting stronger. Especially when he realises there’s actually no computer there.

The monitor sits on the desk, but in the section of the desk where a computer tower  _should_  be sitting, there’s nothing. It’s completely empty, devoid of anything except maybe a dust bunny. In fact looking at the monitor, Remy realises, there are no cables to it. No power cable, no HDMI hookup. Nothing.

Huh…

Remy glances over to the books, stretching across to grab one, pulling it from the shelf, opening it up to a random page to reveal….nothing. It’s blank. Every single page is blank. And apparently it’s not just that book. Three more, also blank, means it stands to reason that every last one of these ‘books’ are emptier than a party house after somebody asks for help with clean up.

Putting the books down, Remy turns back to the room. This is starting to get weird. His eyes travel up to the motivational poster on the wall.

‘YOU SHOULD DO IT’

There’s no picture, just those words. Given the fakery he’s found in here, that is much more sinister than it has any right being at this point. Should do what? Leave? That instinct is definitely getting stronger but he ignores it, pushing it down as he looks around again.

Why have fake books, and a fake computer, and an ominous poster on the wall? There’s something distinctly Night Vale-an about this whole situation, and as much as meeting Cecil Baldwin would be a dream come true, Remy gets a feeling he’s more likely to meet whatever it is that runs the radio station that the show host.

Remy freezes as his focus comes back to the diplomas and the awards on the wall. No two of them share the same name….how did he not notice that?

This one is for Dorian Cecil Taylor

That one for Daniel Connor Travis

Dominic Charles Turnbull?

The only thing they share are the same three initials. D.C.T.

This is some weird twilight zone crap right here and Remy goes around the desk as he back away from the wall. What the hell is going on here?!?!

“Zuko!”

Roman’s booming voice cuts through the silent room like a canon blast and Remy jumps, turning to see his youngest brother stood towards the door of the room, one hand on his hip, another raised in a dramatic gesture.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he hisses, one hand to his chest as he tries to bring his heart rate down again while the other  adjusts his sunglasses. They’d almost fallen off when he jumped. He raises an eyebrow as he sees what his youngest brother is wearing. A white shirt with gold trim and a red sash, while also sporting surprisingly formal trousers and black boots. That’s new. “Nice clothes.”

“It’s a bit of a change,” Roman runs a hand down his sash, looking down at himself with pride. He shrugs, “but I make it work.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh right.” Roman chuckles before he claps his hands together. “You’re in danger.”

Remy rolls his eyes. Logan didn’t reach him so now Virge has sent Roman to give it a go. Kid’s persistent,

“Look I-”

“No time, T-bird” Roman cuts his hand through the air as he steps forward. “I have  _very_  important things to be getting to, so we’ll be doing the TL;DR version. Virgil, you remember my friend Virgil, is convinced that something is wrong and despite there being about a million  _far_  more important things for me to be doing right now,” Remy winces, “Gloomhilda in _sis_ ted that I need to check on you.” He reaches forward to take a firm grip of Remy’s arm, “So are you good?”

Remy glances at his brother’s hand before looking up. It’s not Roman’s fault. He doesn’t mean to come off as an insensitive jackass. He doesn’t realise what he’s saying cuts through his older brother like a red-hot knife. In fact there’s a lot that Roman doesn’t know, and if this is going to be the last time Remy sees him, it’s only fair that he’s finally told the truth.

“Roman.” Remy removes Roman’s hand from his arm. “Virgil, Patton, and Logan are my brothers.”

Roman chuckles, holding a hand proudly against his chest.

“No,  _I’m_  your brother.” Growing up with two sisters, he’s always loved having a secret older brother who was watching over him like his own personal super hero. It made him feel special and Remy has always been kind of awesome

Remy just raises an eyebrow and waits. He watches the cogs turn in his brother’s head and swears he can pinpoint the precise moment it clicks as Roman’s smile drops

“But you said it was  _us_ …” the kid’s voice is barely even, the blossoming scowl on his face matching the barely masked anger in his words.

“Roman I-” Remy reaches forward. He always knew the longer he left this the worse it would be and this wasn’t how he wanted to tell Roman but his hand is kind of being forced right now. Roman slaps Remy’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I  _want_ ed to tell you but your mother-”

“Don’t you  _dare_ bring my mother into this!” Roman jabs an angry finger at him. All semblance of composure is gone. It’s surprising that no one has come to investigate the noise.

“She didn’t want me to tell you, she made me swear I-”

“I don’t care!”

“Roman-!”

“Stay away from me!” With a flourish, Roman’s gone.

Remy stands alone in the dark and suddenly silent office. Minutes tick by. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he feels a tear drip from his under his chin. Taking off his glasses, putting them down on the desk, Remy wipes haphazardly at his eyes with his jacket sleeve. It’s not very effective since he’s still crying, no matter how angrily he wills himself to stop.

Roman has never been a kid to do things by halves. He throws himself into everything he does and is stubborn to a fault. Even if being a Guardian doesn’t keep him away, Roman is never going to come back. That feeling of anger and betrayal is going to be his last memory of Remy. And that breaks Remy’s heart.

At least Roman knows the truth now. Better that than allowing him to continue to live in ignorance. The others will look after him, and he’ll look after Virgil. They’ll all be fine without him. They’ll be fantastic and Remy will… Remy will….

“So,” comes a voice from behind him, “there’s  _more_  of you.”

Remy turns, panicked, as a hand from nowhere grabs him by the throat, squeezing tight. Though his hands fly up and fight to break it off, the grip is iron tight and already his vision is starting to blur. All he can make out is a blurry shadow with a single yellow eye before him as he struggles to draw in air.

His scrabbling is doing nothing and his lungs are screaming for oxygen. Within minutes his arms have lost strength and his hands drop, eyes drooping as Remy finally passes out.

As the boy’s legs crumple beneath him, the shadow loosens its grip, reaching forward to wrap an arm around the boy’s shoulders, carefully pulling him close. The other hand raises to cradle the poor boy’s head against its shoulder in a surprisingly gentle hold. .

“That changes things.”


	5. Trust Your Gut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It won't steer you wrong, Jack.

For supposedly quiet places, libraries are surprisingly loud. Clickity-clacking of keys, pages turning, frustrated students silently swearing, broke students quietly discussing what they’d do if they only had the money, the symphony of printers that always seem to be printing; it’s surprising that anyone can really get any work done in this place, or at least that’s what Jack tells himself as he re-reads the same paragraph he’s been stuck on for the last forty minutes. But then again, it could be because he keeps glancing at his phone. Any minute now it should be vibrating and lighting up with some kind of update but it just sits there like the useless brick his dad frequently calls it, doing nothing but blinking the time at him.

Jack hadn’t been able to pay attention in class either. Not being able to see a whole human is kind of a daunting and distracting revelation but at this point, Jack isn’t sure what else he can do. Meanwhile, Remy had been insistent that he could investigate and report back and it’s been two hours now with no word.

Jack doesn’t like it.

The hero in him wants to throw his work from the table, kick open the door and storm off to find Remy. They could figure all this out together, and even though he couldn’t see Remy, at least Jack would know that he’s safe…..but….. There’s this smaller voice. It doesn’t yell, or shout, it isn’t even particularly loud, but however hard he tries, he can’t ignore it. It says he’s better off staying put. Just sit there. This isn’t his problem. Let someone else handle it.. Just sit. After all, he  _isn’t_  a hero. He’s just some guy in a red zip hoodie who’s a little…over-helpful. That’s not a hero that’s….that’s…

Jack jolts back to himself as a loud shout cuts through the air drawing the collective attention of the room. Geez, he must have zoned out for a second there.

The shouting is coming from the library’s entrance, and though there’s many murmurs about rudeness, nobody makes a move. That’s what security is for right? No need to get involved. Still, the more he listens, the more Jack gets the feeling that something about this doesn’t feel right. Something in the base of Jack’s gut pushes him to stand.

There’s more than one voice but they keep merging and cutting out making it’s impossible to figure out how many because one of them sounds both familiar and fake at the same time, like a few people at the end of a tunnel.

They’re male, as far as he can tell, but his brain just isn’t processing any single one of the words which is really weird. Especially how much closer he is now. Jack slows as he reaches the corner that leads to where the voices have to be coming from, cautiously peering around it. He isn’t sure what he expected to see, but it wasn’t this.

In the middle of main entrance stands Remy, black jacket, brown scruffy hair, reflective aviators pressed tight against his face, arms raised in defence as a relative stranger stands across from him.

I say stranger because, though he rocks a purple and black patchwork hoodie, and heavy under-eye makeup, he looks so similar to Remy, same brown hair, same facial features, that it hurts to look at him. He’s younger though, and pissed as hell, jabbing a finger angrily in the librarian’s face.

“Then tell me my name!” he shouts.

“I…uh…um…” Remy’s shuffles back, glancing around in confusion.

“Wrong answer!” There’s a loud slap as the stranger strikes his cheek, knocking the glasses from his face, where they skitter to a stop on the floor.

Remy’s hands fly up in a panic to cover the left side of his face as he stumbles back from the hit.

“Wait!” he insists, “Please! I can explain!”

“Hey!” Jack steps forward from his hiding spot, shouting towards the stranger.”You can’t just go around hitting people!”

“Stay out of this kid.” Said stranger doesn’t even glance towards Jack as he growls, attention entirely focused on Remy still clutching at his face.

“Jack?” Remy’s hand drops in shock, revealing his left iris to be an iridescent gold. Jack frowns, why is that so….?

“……Dylan?!”

A sharp shooting pain pierces Jack’s skull, though nothing even touches him. Yelling, his hands fly to his head as he tries to force it back, push the pain away. His whole head feels like it’s peeling apart but as two firm hands grip his arms, the pain ebbs enough for him to peek. Remy is right in front of him, golden eye shining like a horrible beacon that pierces his eyes and strikes him right at the base of his skull again.

“Look at me Jack. Look! You’re allowed to look!” Just like that the pain dissipates, leaving nothing but a phantom ache in its path. Jack blearily blinks open his eyes again.

“Wh-what?!” he manages to stammer. “What’s….?”

“I can explain, I swear I can. You just have to-”

Virgil slams his hand against Remy’s back, eyes glowing a deep purple as he pushes his power into this imposter. Remy’s eyes are wide, mouth stuck open in a silent scream. Criss-crossing deep purple veins begin to crawl up from under Remy’s collar, dancing about on his skin, up his neck, across his cheeks before the power fills his eyes, the gold still somehow shining through.

Every muscle in Remy’s body tenses, his grip on Jack impossibly tight, locking him in place as he’s forced to witness whatever the hell is going on! Within moments the golden iris fades away, both eyes having turned a deep purple, stuck in a look of sheer terror. Tears well up and fall, slowly tracking over Remy’s cheeks, and Jack’s Instinct kicks in.

“Stop!” Jack grips Remy’s still tense arms and attempts to shout around him. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

The stranger doesn’t hear, or doesn’t care, seemingly lost in the flow of whatever he’s doing. Jack tightens his grip and pulls, tearing Remy away with as much force as he can muster. Even then he barely manages it, the connection between the two of them breaks and Remy drops like a ragdoll. Jack just about manages to catch him, immediately partially dragging Remy out of reach.

The stranger blinks. The power is gone, and he suddenly looks a hell of a lot younger, glancing around as though surprised at what he’d just done.

“I….”

Remy groans, reaching a hand to his head. Everything is pitching and heaving like an out of control theme park ride and he’s about two seconds from just emptying his stomach. His heart is pounding, racing as fast as he wishes he could from what he’d seen. The amount of understanding he has as to what’s going on is exactly 0, but when he looks up to find Jack just about holding him up while Virgil stands across from them…

Shit.

Virgil’s thing is anxiety, which Remy is definitely feeling a lot of right now. He may not remember how he got here, or what’s going on, but Remy is able to figure out that Virgil attacked him, and right now he wants to be anywhere but here. Groggily pushing himself away from Jack, Remy stumbles towards the stairs, and rushes up them. Somebody shouts after him but he’s already gone.

Virgil calls out, stepping to run after his brother, but Jack steps into his way, face stern, one hand raised to stop him.

”I think you should leave.”

A cursory glance shows everybody around them staring, not very subtly, a few people whispering to each other. He may have overdone it a bit. This is probably why he shouldn’t try this crap without Roman around to pull him back. Of course he doesn’t intend to tell the idiot that.

“Tell him I’m sorry.” Virgil mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets before he disappears.

Jack lets out a sigh the moment the stranger is gone, shuffling to pick up Remy’s sunglasses. That was a large amount of crap in a short amount of time, and there’s no point pretending he has any clue what the hell he just witnessed. Instead he focuses on what he does know. Jack turns to look towards the stairs. Remy could probably do with a friendly face around about now.


End file.
